Bianca's Story
by Redi Chalyn
Summary: Varric finally tells the story of how Bianca got her name.
1. Tell me a Story

_I knew a girl, made a promise. Bianca's story is the only one I can never tell. _

Varric stepped into the dim lighted bedroom, his nose crinkling. The smell of elfroot and various other herbs filled the house, but in this room it was practically unbearable. He sighed and put on a smile for the woman on the bed. "Come on, why be in here all day when there are things to kill?" Silence was his response, and he went to the side of the bed, looking down. His eyes adjusted to the lighting, he saw the woman's head on the pillow, blankets covering up to her neck. She was pale, far too pale. He sighed. "Well, this isn't how I thought the story would end. The Champion laying in bed with the wasting? Who would have guessed?"

Something of a small laugh met his remark. "You know me, unpredictable as always."

"It's getting old, Hawke. And so am I. We're too old to be unpredictable." He pulled a stool from the corner and sat down, unsure if he regretted his promise to see her after he returned from Seeker Cassandra's interrogation.

"What did you tell the Seeker?"

"Ah so you did know what it was all about. Coulda told me." He sighed, shaking his head. "The truth, mostly. Left out the part about you leaving Kirkwall. Oh, and a lot of erhm, details, about several years."

Hawke smiled weakly and nodded as best she could. "Thank-you."

"Don't mention it." Several minutes passed where neither said anything, and Varric stood to leave. Hawke reached out her hand and took his arm, the action clearly tiring her. Varric looked down at her and gently took her hand, laying it on the bed and readjusting the covers. "Fine, I'll stay."

"Tell me a story. Please?"

Varric felt a pang as he heard the weak, pitiful voice coming from his friend's lips. "Okay, Hawke. What story would you like?"

"Will you tell me...how Bianca got her name?"

"Now Hawke, you know I can't tell that story." Varric regretted denying her wish, but just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I won't tell anyone, I swear by Andraste's fire."

Varric sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright Hawke. For you, I'll tell you Bianca's story."


	2. The Meeting

Varric walked through the streets of Hightown, on his way to the Hanged Man for a drink. A beautiful human woman nearly ran into him, but he dodged and caught her arm gracefully. "Now, now, is that any way for a noble to behave?"

"Please Serah, I-I'm not a noble. Just let me go."

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Who's after you? Coterie?"

"No, just please Serah let me go."

Varric shrugged and released his hold on her arm, watching her run off. He couldn't help thinking about her the rest of his walk to Lowtown, and resolved to start a new serial. As he walked into the Hanged Man, he waved at Corff for a drink, then walked to his regular table which afforded great listening to any juicy rumors. After drinking half his tankard, he heard the door open and close rather hastily. He stood and looked to see who'd come in in such a manner and saw her, the woman from Hightown. He glanced around and beckoned her over. She hurried to his suite and looked around, breathless. Varric sat down, motioning at a chair for her to do the same. "So you're either following me or you don't know how to lay low very well. Which one is it?"

"I...I don't know what you mean, Serah."

Varric laughed and motioned Norah over to order another drink. "Come now, let's not play games I'm a busy man. Well, dwarf, but still manly."

The woman looked unsure of herself, even beneath the hooded cloak she wore. "I...I am trying to leave Kirkwall."

"By going into Lowtown? Not the best idea Princess." Norah returned with the drink and Varric tasted it, grimacing. "Sodding...I swear she never gets my order right."

"Please, Serah. I am no princess."

Varric laughed. "Well what am I supposed to call you then? Runaway broad? No, doesn't have a good ring to it."

The woman's hands clenched. "My name is Bianca, Serah. And you would do well not to refer to me in that manner."

Varric raised an eyebrow, then noticed flickers of flame dancing from within her fists. His eyes widened. "Okay, okay, no need to burn the place down. It may not be the best drinks in the world but it's still pretty good." He sighed with relief as the woman calmed down, the flames dying. "So uh, Bianca. Hm. Interesting name. Does it come with an interesting face, or just a hood?"

"It comes. That is all."

Varric shrugged and finished off his drink. "Well then, Bianca, what'll you have? Watered down piss or whiskey?"

"I do not joke, Serah. I need to leave Kirkwall."

Varric cocked his head to the side. "I can well imagine why. But you won't get very far with an empty belly, and believe me you'll need something to wash down the stew they have here." He waved Norah over again. "Two pints and two bowls of stew. Tell Corff to put it on my tab." When Norah left, he returned his attention to Bianca and leaned back in his chair, studying her. "So, you're running from the templars."

Bianca's head shot up and she glared at him, her eyes a fierce icy blue within the darkness from her hood. "Are you always so loud, dwarf?"

Varric laughed, holding a hand up. "Please, call me Varric. And I don't know if you've heard the commotion in this place but I doubt anyone can hear us. Which might explain why Norah never gets my order right."

Bianca set her jaw, narrowing her eyes into a glare. "Yes, I am. What of it? You going to turn me in?"

"Oh please, my dear young lady, I have no intention of getting involved with Chantry matters. No, I just like to know a bit about the person I'm putting on my tab for the evening."

Bianca sighed with frustration but remained silent until Norah returned with their dinners. She raised an eyebrow at the stew. "What is that?"

Varric shrugged as he took a bite. "House specialty. Made from a different mystery meat each day." He took a drink.

Bianca hesitantly took a bite, quickly followed by a drink, which made her grimace even more. Varric laughed and they continued their dinner in silence. Afterward, Bianca took her hood off, showing a fair skinned face and long jet black hair. Her eyes were like ice chips even still. "I should thank you, Serah."

"Be my guest."

Bianca narrowed her eyes in agitation. "You should know you aided an apostate."

Varric half shrugged, finishing his drink. "Sweetheart, I'm the younger son of a dwarven merchant. An apostate is the least of my concerns."

Bianca was about to retort when there was a loud bang in the main room as the door flew open and against the wall. Bianca's eyes widened in fear and she stood up quickly.

Varric motioned toward his bed and Bianca ran to it, crawling under and hiding in the shadows. Varric stood when three templars came into his suite. "Ah, and to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"There is an apostate mage attempting to flee Kirkwall, do you know of her?"

Varric's brow furrowed. "Why would I know anything about that? I'm a dwarf, in case you can't tell."

"You're also well known for your, interesting stories. You must have ears about so tell us, do you know of her?"

Varric sighed. "Always go for the dwarf. I'd check Darktown: you'd have better luck there. No one comes to the Hanged Man to hide they come here to get drunk and lose money playing cards."

The templars rolled their eyes and moved on, leaving the Hanged Man presently. The commotion recommenced and Bianca crawled out from under Varric's bed, looking at him thankfully. Varric merely shrugged and took his crossbow off his back, polishing it. Bianca sat down, allowing herself to breathe finally.

"Where's your staff?" Varric didn't even glance up. "Mages have staffs, don't they? Where's yours?"

"I am not so stupid as to keep it where it may be seen by everyone."

"In other words you left it in the Gallows, didn't you?" Varric laughed.

Bianca glared at him. "Well, while I thank you for assisting me, Serah, I must now leave."

Varric held a hand up. "I wouldn't. I told those templars the truth: the best way out of Kirkwall is through Darktown. You're gonna wanna wait awhile before heading out."

"There has to be another way out."

Varric half shrugged. "There's always another way, but the question is, do you want to take it?"

Bianca narrowed her eyes. "What's the other way?"


	3. The Promise

Later that night, when most of Kirkwall was asleep and the rest were either approaching sleep or were pursuing various late night activities, Varric led Bianca out of the Hanged Man and through the back alleys of Kirkwall. The sun was partially risen when they began approaching the Wounded Coast. They stopped for a rest, looking at each other. Bianca took her hood down and ran her fingers through her hair. Varric looked around them for any potential threats. Bianca watched him. "You should leave now, Varric." Varric looked over at her. "You've already put yourself in danger: there's no need to further risk the anger of the templars."

Varric laughed. "There's much more to worry about out here than templars, Bianca."

Bianca sighed, shaking her head. She stood and looked around. She nodded toward the southern path. "We should go that way."

Varric nodded. "Right. Otherwise its a dead end." He started walking, Bianca falling into step beside him.

It took them the better part of an hour to navigate their way around the Wounded Coast, the sun rising fully. They saw a figure standing by a tree and stopped, but Bianca quickly gasped and ran toward the figure, Varric trailing behind her. Bianca touched the figure's shoulder and a robed man slowly turned to face her. Bianca stepped back quickly, a pained look on her face. Varric looked at the man, recognizing he was a mage, then saw the brand on his forehead. He looked over at Bianca. "Uh, this might come a little late, but I don't think we should be here."

Bianca's lower lip was trembling. "Richten...when?" She looked around and noticed several templars coming out of hiding. She looked at Varric, eyes fearful and sad.

Varric pulled his crossbow out and loaded it, standing close to Bianca. "Friends everywhere, lovely." He shot quickly with deadly aim, combined with spells Bianca was casting even without a staff. He looked around after the templars were dead, smirking. "Nice work."

Bianca looked back at the tranquil. "I'm so sorry, Richten."

Varric stepped back and let her have her moment, but heard a twig snap. "Looks like we missed a few!" He aimed his crossbow but realized too late there was a templar behind him as he felt a heavy force on the back of his head. As he fell forward, he felt his crossbow being yanked from his hands before all went dark.

How long he was out, Varric didn't know. What he did know, was that when he opened his eyes at last he saw what he was sure had to be an angel, surrounding him in a blue glow that seemed to ease every pain he'd ever had. "That could have gone better." The blue light dissipated and he saw that the angel was in fact Bianca, her cloak gone. Varric's eyes widened a bit and he slowly sat up.

Bianca touched his cheek gently. "I'm so sorry, Varric. I should never have brought you into this."

Varric shook his head, gently wiping her tears away. "I've been in worse situations than this, sweetheart." He looked around, his eyes landing on his crossbow, or what was left of it. He sighed, bowing his head. "Gonna need a new one of those."

Bianca stood, but cried out and fell back to her knees. Varric acted instantly, gripping her shoulders and easing her to the ground. Only then did he see she was bleeding. He gently touched her cheek. "You're a mage, right? Just heal yourself."

Bianca shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. We can only use our powers with mana, like you need energy to keep your stamina up." She gritted her teeth. Realization dawned on Varric and he felt sick suddenly, knowing she'd used up her energy to heal him instead of herself. Bianca smiled up at him, her eyes deep wells of sorrow. "Take...the crossbow from that templar. It's infused with lyrium: it can never be broken."

Varric looked around quickly and saw what she was referring to. He grabbed it and returned to her quickly, gently moving her stray hairs into place. "Don't go."

Bianca smiled and closed her eyes. "Everyone must go to the Maker's side eventually, Varric." A pained look crossed her face and she looked at Varric pleadingly. "Promise me. Promise me you won't tell anyone about me."

Varric took a breath. "What's there to tell?"

Bianca nodded and pushed herself up, Varric leaning down. Her lips gently touched his and he held her in his arms as they kissed. She left him with the soothing taste of cloves, and he laid her down gently. He looked at the crossbow, examining it. "Bianca. I swear, no one will ever know who you are, except us."


	4. Champion to us All

Varric looked down at the bed, taking a deep breath to calm himself after the memories he'd brought up by telling the story. "So, Hawke, now you know. Did it make you feel any better?"

Hawke smiled softly, eyes closed. "Thank-you," she whispered.

Varric nodded, unsure if the lump in his throat was from the memory of Bianca, or the knowledge that his best friend was dying. He sighed, knowing this was the last time he'd ever see her.

"Varric?" Hawke's voice was small and weak.

Varric took her hand. "I'm here, Hawke. Right here."

"Leave this part out of my story."

Varric laughed dryly. "I promise, Hawke." He watched her for a moment and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You take care, Hawke." He stood, not wanting to watch her die any more than she wanted to be watched. He turned and walked out of the room, not even looking at Orana as he left, though he was silently thankful at least one person had remained with Hawke through everything.

A week later, a funeral was held for the Champion of Kirkwall. All of Kirkwall as well as most of the Free Marches were in attendance, with those closest to her in the front rows after carrying her body to the pyre. Varric stood beside the pyre before it was lit, and silence fell over the crowd. He swallowed, collecting himself before speaking. "Hawke wasn't just Champion of Kirkwall. She was champion to all of us, even before being given the title. She-" for the first time that anyone was aware of, Varric's voice cracked and he had to calm down before continuing. "She was always ready for a joke to lighten the mood, but she knew there was a time to be serious. With bravery, she defended the city she came to as a refugee and grew to love. She was the truest friend, and-" He swallowed, "and she will be remembered with the love she carried for all of us. When we tell a joke, we will do so in memory of our Champion, our Hawke." He nodded and stepped away from the pyre. He didn't look at the others who had come to attend, knowing there were some missing. Isabella had never returned after betraying everyone, Anders was dead, and Fenris? Fenris, who had stolen Hawke's heart then broken it, only to promise never to do so again, hadn't even shown up for the funeral. Varric doubted if he'd even visited Hawke while she was ill, or if he'd even cared.

The pyre was lit and the glow of the flames illuminated all their faces. Aveline bit back her tears and clutched Donnic's hand as she ran her other hand over their daughter's hair. She looked away from the pyre, not wanting to see her friend being burned. On the horizon, she thought she saw two silhouettes outlined by the sunset. She stared at them, unsure who they were or if they were truly there, but she had a theory. Before she could decide what to do if her theory was correct, however, her daughter tugged on her arm. She looked down into her young face. "Mama, why are they burning her? What if she wakes up, she'd be on fire!" There was a muffled forced laughter from anyone who heard the innocent girl, and Aveline closed her eyes. She didn't have the heart to answer, and she doubted she could trust her voice.

Standing on a hill overlooking the funeral, was Isabella and Fenris. They stood apart from each other, tears in both their eyes. They each had separate reasons for standing away from the actual procession, but they shared the main reason that no one could understand but Hawke. Well, Varric could understand, but he was all but required to attend because he gave the eulogy. Hawke had never been one to glorify death, and would never have wanted anyone to see her die or view her corpse.

Varric looked at the flaming pyre one last time. "Sleep well Hawke. Say hi to Bianca for me." He turned and left, unable to stomach it anymore.


End file.
